Two-Forty
by shiicho
Summary: Young Ben Solo eagerly awaits his Dad's arrival on the falcon, his trusty wookie doll by his side. - SADNESS ALERT ! Hopefully I didn't butcher this. I enjoyed writing what I think a few minutes in the life of young Ben Solo would be like. This was originally published on another fanfic site but I want to maybe start a series of young Rey and Ben one-shots. Enjoy! -


Hanging limply, forgotten in the hand of the small boy who held it, was a soft, brown wookie doll. Its fur was matted and one of the button eyes was coming off, attesting to its well-worn, loved state. The fingers holding its paw curled tighter, almost absent-mindedly, as its owner looked up at the clear blue skies scattered with whispy clouds.

"Two-forty," the small boy whispered to himself. "Mom said two-forty." A little sigh escaped his rosy lips, and he turned from his post and wandered back inside the spacious home, his wookie toy dragging the ground.

"Mom?" He yelled towards the kitchen, picking up another of his new toys, a cruiser model, and mimicking its flight in the air.

"Ben, I already told you and I'll tell you again. Daddy said he'll be home around two-forty."

"But you said he'd be home _at_ two-forty," the small boy's smooth complexion puckered into a frown as he glanced over at the time reader on the wall.

"Daddy's never on time. You should know that by now." There was an edge of frustration to his mother's tone, and Ben wisely refrained from protesting against something he knew, in his young age, he couldn't change. His father would arrive when he arrived. Late or early, today or tomorrow.

Ben just hoped it was today.

"Today," he whispered, dropping the cruiser and lifting his wookie doll. "It _has_ to be today, Wicket," he spoke to the doll, hugging it to his chest and hurrying back outside into the warm sunshine. "Two-forty."

The small boy approached the short stone railing that wound its way down the path from the house. It took him a few attempts to climb up, finally wiggling his seat to a comfortable position on the flat surface. He carefully set his wookie doll beside him, making sure it was sitting up and facing the walkway. "Watch for dad, Wicket," Ben instructed his toy seriously, folding his hands together and looking to the skies. "We don't want to miss him." He hummed a small tune, gently kicking one foot and reaching over to adjust his toy's position.

His eyes fell closed as the minutes ticked past, and one hand moved to brush back an ebony curl of hair that tickled his nose as the breeze teased the locks.

It wasn't a sound, or anything he could have explained that caused his eyes to pop open, just an awareness, a change in the air that sparked his excitement. His ears then heard the familiar roar of the falcon's engines, and there it was, descending from the skies towards the landing strip. Leaping to his feet, Ben nearly forgot his wookie as he bolted towards the landing ship. He pulled up midstep, whirled, and the wookie came sailing into his outstretched hand. Without a second thought, Ben ran as fast as his little feet could carry him, a smile lighting his eyes.

"Dad! Chewie!" Ben yelled as the falcon's ramp descended. Han and Chewie appeared, in conversation, but Chewie turned and _rawred_ a pleased greeting and opened his arms to the boy running towards them. Ben hesitated and looked up at his dad, whose face he couldn't see, hidden behind a large crate and boxes.

"Hi Dad."

"Hey kiddo." One hand came out to ruffle his hair as he passed. Ben turned to accept Chewie's hug, grinning as the wookie lifted him to up to sit on his shoulders.

"Dad, I went to Oren's house yesterday and I saw..." Ben's voice trailed off as he realized his father was already out of earshot. His shoulders slumped, and Chewie rawred again, giving him a little bounce.

"He's _always_ thinking about something else," Ben sighed, holding his doll tight with one hand and toying with Chewie's fur with the other as they walked towards the house. "I want him to think about _me._ "

Another _Rawr._

"I hope you're right, Chewie."

Chewie bounced him again and told him a joke he'd picked up on their latest trip. Ben's downcast expression brightened as he laughed, and Chewie joined in, his wookie voice chortling with his unique laughter. They had to duck _very_ low to enter the house, making Ben laugh again as Chewie set him down safely on the floor. Ben tossed his wookie doll on the couch and retrieved his new cruiser to show Chewie. The wookie murmured appreciatively, giving the toy proper inspection. Ben beamed at the appraisal as Chewie handed it back to him.

"I'm going to show Dad." He sped towards the kitchen, a delighted smile on his face, only to pull up short at the angry tones rising from within the doorway. He felt that disappointed feeling twist in his stomach again like it always did when his parents were in such a mood, and the toy in his hands suddenly didn't matter anymore. A whisper told him he'd better leave in case he got in trouble for listening, but he couldn't refrain from peeking into the kitchen. There was his mother, leaning against the counter, one hand wearily pushing back a strand of her long hair as she spoke. His father had set down his crates and spoke over her, their voices rising and falling, challenging and provoking one another. They argued over of things Ben did not understand, or maybe didn't wish too.

A tear rose unbidden in Ben's eyes as keen disappointment filled his very soul. The joy of the day was gone. He wandered back into the next room. Chewie had left, having picked up the scattered toys around the room. Ben moved to the couch, setting down the cruiser and reaching for his wookie doll, hugging it tightly to his chest. He dragged his feet towards the stairs. He might as well play upstairs until suppertime. He knew better than to interrupt his parents to request one of them to be his playmate.

As he set his foot on the first step, his eyes lifted to the time-reader on the wall.

Two forty-one.

"At least Dad was on time today, Wicket." Ben told his doll, looking again towards the kitchen. The voices rose again, and he quickly moved up the stairs to escape them.

The wookie doll remained as it was, pressed up tightly against the chest of the small boy, even when the day's shadows grew long and the boy's tummy rumbled with hunger. It stayed as its owner fell asleep curled on the floor. Only when the door creaked open and footsteps approach to lift the small boy onto the bed did the wookie fall to the floor.

"Sorry, kiddo." A deep voice whispered. "We'll talk tomorrow." A calloused hand lifted the doll, and after a moment of hesitation tucked it safely next to the boy's side. The small sliver of light from the hallway disappeared as the door closed, and the sleeping boy was left in darkness.


End file.
